


tomorrow is my turn

by idontshaveforsher_yesyoudo



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers, Teens in love, dealing with peter's ptsd, this is just.... v v fluffy.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 01:53:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19713901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idontshaveforsher_yesyoudo/pseuds/idontshaveforsher_yesyoudo
Summary: The only sound in the quiet apartment is the soft crooning of Nina Simone as MJ’s favourite record spins round, accompanied by a constant crackle, and Peter and MJ’s breathing.





	tomorrow is my turn

**Author's Note:**

> eyyoo I'm back y'all ! 
> 
> me: loves writing hurt!peter so I can write a hurt/comfort fic.  
> ffh: writes hurt!peter  
> me: \0.0/
> 
> this doesn't really deal w the mid-credit scene, you can imagine Peter's ID never got revealed, or they're ignoring it rn, or they're in a save-house to protect their privacy, I don't care tbh. 
> 
> feedback always much appreciated, love y'all.

_Tomorrow is my turn_  
_No more doubts no more fears_  
_Tomorrow is my turn to receive without giving_  
_Make life worth living_  
_Now it's my life I'm living_

_-Nina Simone, Tomorrow Is My Turn_

Gushes of rain hit the window and absorb any noise coming from the outside world.

The only sound in the quiet apartment is the soft crooning of Nina Simone as MJ’s favourite record spins round, accompanied by a constant crackle, and Peter and MJ’s breathing.

His head lies in her lap, her hand in his hair, a slow motion of circles, his eyes closed, his eyelids rarely fluttering.

It’s a new kind of quiet the two of them have found.

At first, things were awkward, tense, neither of them really sure how to move forward from ‘I kissed you when we almost died and the world almost ended’, and it took a few weeks for them to get comfortable with holding hands and touching legs and throwing an arm around each other’s shoulder.

Now, with gusts of wind outside and the silent warmth of sweatpants and hoodies, all reservations about touch and awkwardness thrown out the window, they find themselves in a moment of calm that doesn’t happen often.

And that doesn’t last long, because, suddenly, Peter startles upwards, scrambles to his knees, his eyes frantic in their movement around the room and his breathing even more so.

MJ stays calm.

_(She tries.)_

She’s seen this look on him before, and it doesn’t mean danger, she’s learned. So, instead of freaking out, she takes his hand where it’s hanging in the air, trembling.

“You’re here with me,” she says. “You’re here, you’re safe, I’m safe, nothing is going to happen.”

_(The grip of his hand in hers is tight, almost tight enough to hurt.)_

“Peter, breathe with me. In, out. Slow and steady.” Her own breathing is shaky, but she does her best to regulate it, waiting for him to fall in rhythm with her. It takes a few minutes, then they’re breathing in sync, slowly, steadily.

He closes his eyes, opens them again. Gives her a tight smile.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m just- “

“Don’t, you dweeb. It’s fine, come here.” She leans against the headboard of her bed and pulls him down so that his head is back in her lap.

As she begins stroking through his hair again, she asks, “Wanna talk about it?”

He sighs.

His eyes are directed upwards to the ceiling, but his mind seems to be on something else entirely.

_(Somehow, MJ is surprised when he starts talking.)_

“I heard a train a block away. Panicked.”

“A train?” MJ knows about triggers. She still wakes up bathed in sweat sometimes, dreaming of knights and tornadoes and Venetian carnival masks. She knows a few of Peter’s, like lava in action movies and birds screeching. Trains is a new one, though, and she can’t really relate it to anything Spider-Man-concerned.

Peter laughs and doesn’t sound amused at all. “This will sound so dumb, but, like, remember when I went to Berlin to fight Beck?”

MJ hums.

“So, he was doing all these, kind of, illusions, right? And then he got me to stand in a place and I didn’t realise where I was standing because of the illusions, so, like, I kind of got hit by a train?”

MJ’s eyebrows raise on their own and her hand briefly stops where it’s entangled in Peter’s hair before it returns to drawing slow circles.

“A train?” she asks, focusing on making her voice as stable as she can.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s fine, I’m fine and all, but it was still kind of stressful.”

MJ huffs, something like a laugh. “Stressful is one way to describe that, yeah.”

Peter smiles despite the serious conversation they’re having. “You know what I mean.”

She smiles back at him without wanting to. It’s an annoying reflex, smiling whenever he does, but she can’t seem to get rid of it.

_(If she were honest, completely, gruesomely honest, she would admit that she doesn’t want to get rid of the reflex. But emotions are overrated, so she pretends to be annoyed at it.)_

“Anyway,” Peter says, “it’s stupid. I shouldn’t be freaking out because of that.”

And just like that, MJ’s smile disappears again and the hand not in his hair right now closes to a fist. She wishes she could punch whoever put him through so much that he thinks that getting hit by a train is a stupid thing to get anxious about.

_(If that means she has to punch the world at large so be it.)_

Instead of punching someone, she bends down to press her lips to his forehead.

His eyes flicker open and he grins at her, pursing his lips and tilting his head up in search of a kiss, to which she obliges happily.

Then, she sits up again and continues mussing his hair up in every direction.

When she glances down a few minutes later to find his eyes closed, she speaks, staring strictly ahead at the wall opposite her bed.

“You don’t have to apologise for your triggers. It’s not your fault that the world has put you through so much shit that getting hit by a train is not the worst thing that ever happened to you.”

She swallows, because she hates emotions and her eyes are tearing up and she loves this boy so much and she never wants him to get hurt again, wants to bundle him up in blankets and protect him from supervillains and catastrophes and other superheroes expecting him to save the world.

She’s so focused on keeping her tears from falling that she startles when he reaches out to touch her hand and intertwines their fingers.

“I love you, you know that?”

Her eyes flick down to see him grinning up at her with the same dopey look he gets whenever he talks about Star Wars or space or his favourite chocolate chip ice cream.

MJ feels her cheeks heat up, but, once again, she can’t help but smile, and she doesn’t even care that she probably looks stupid.

“Ditto, dork.”

His grin grows even wider.

“Nah, you have to say it properly.”

She scoffs. “Shut up, I just did.”

He’s giggling now and MJ hides her face behind her hands so he can’t see her blush.

She feels him move to sit up and peeks out between her fingers, sees him shift around.

Then he grabs her hands, pulling them down and holding them between his.

“Come on, say it.”

“Boh!” She shakes her head but can’t stop her laughter.

He’s laughing, too. “Please.”

_(It’s not fair, because he pouts and does his puppy eyes, and no-one can resist his puppy eyes.)_

“I love you, too,” she murmurs.

His entire face lights up, and MJ knows she’d move mountains and divert rivers and fight entire alien armies for him.

He kisses her, then, and for a while, they’re just two ordinary teenagers being in love.

**Author's Note:**

> MJ's favourite record is Nina Simone's I Put A Spell On You, which is where the song I'm quoting & the title is from, as well


End file.
